


So Get This

by fangirlingtodeath513



Series: Inktober 2017 [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Griffin - Freeform, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, dean is bi, established Destiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 02:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12266598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlingtodeath513/pseuds/fangirlingtodeath513
Summary: “So get this: there’s been a rash of killings in Sidney, Nebraska. The deaths were all ruled accidental, but a few eyewitnesses came forward and said that the wounds on the body looked like they were from a giant bird. One even said they saw the bird drop the body and fly away.” Sam finally looks up at the other two hunters at the table, his eyebrows raised. Dean’s hand had paused halfway to his face, the beer in his hand still tilted toward his mouth.





	So Get This

**Author's Note:**

> So this one got a bit out of hand and turned into a case fic instead of just a short fic for the challenge oops
> 
> Day 4: Mythology

“So get this: there’s been a rash of killings in Sidney, Nebraska. The deaths were all ruled accidental, but a few eyewitnesses came forward and said that the wounds on the body looked like they were from a giant bird. One even said they saw the bird drop the body and fly away.” Sam finally looks up at the other two hunters at the table, his eyebrows raised. Dean’s hand had paused halfway to his face, the beer in his hand still tilted toward his mouth.

 

“Um… what? A giant bird?” Dean sets his beer on the table, clearing his throat. “A giant bird. Like, a fuckin ostrich?” Castiel snorts beside him, and Dean’s rather proud of himself for making him laugh. Sam, however, is not amused by either of them.

 

“Yeah, I’m sure an ostrich is murdering people and dropping their bodies from the air, Dean.”

 

“Well, alright, to be fair, what did you  _ think _ my reaction was going to be to that weird-ass story?” Sam sighs, closing his laptop.

 

“I don’t know. I still think we should check it out. It could be a supernatural creature.” Of course Castiel picks  _ that  _ moment to agree with Sam.

 

“It could be supernatural, Dean. There’s not many large birds that could carry a dead human very far. We should go see.” Dean scrubs a hand over his face, groaning in defeat.

 

“Fine, we’ll go look for your stupid bird. Pack your shit.” Sam grins, grabbing his laptop and going to his room. Castiel smiles fondly and rolls his eyes at Dean’s outburst, following the hunter to their room.

 

“Sam’s right, you know. It  _ does _ sound like something supernatural.” Dean huffs in annoyance, tossing Cas his duffle bag and pulling his own out of the closet. 

 

“Yeah, I know. I was just hoping we’d be able to have our movie weekend this weekend.” Castiel smiles, pressing a gentle kiss to Dean’s cheek.

 

“Perhaps we’ll be back soon enough for it.” He takes Dean’s duffle gently, packing both of them quickly and efficiently. Dean smiles to himself.

 

“Look at you, it’s almost like you hunt or something.” Castiel chuckles, shaking his head and zipping the bags.

 

“Yes, almost like.” He hands Dean his bag, tossing him the Impala keys and holding out his hand. Dean grins, tucking the keys into his pocket and lacing his fingers with Castiel’s, walking to the Bunker’s garage with him.

 

        Castiel had come back human three weeks after Lucifer had killed him. Three weeks after Dean had spent the night on his knees next to his… next to Cas’s body, staring at the singed imprint of his broken wings on the sand. He’d shown up on the Bunker’s doorstep in his blood-covered dress shirt and trench coat, shivering. It’d been a year and a half since then. Jack had helped them get their mother back and helped them kill Lucifer before vanishing to do… whatever the offspring of the literal Devil does in their spare time. Castiel had moved into the Bunker- permanently, much to Dean’s delight- and had spent a month training in the Bunker’s rather immense gym until Dean had deemed him fast enough to hunt with them. Despite that, Dean always fusses over Cas during hunts, to no one's surprise. 

 

It was a surprise to Sam, however, when Dean sat across from him at breakfast one morning and cleared his throat.

 

“Sammy, we gotta talk.” Sam had raised an eyebrow and set the tome he was reading aside before nodding.

 

“Alright. Go ahead.” Dean had cleared his throat again and tapped his fingers on the table a few times, a clear sign that he was nervous.

 

“I’m… It’s not… Okay. So… you know when I used to disappear at bars and stuff for sex?” Sam had snorted.

 

“I don’t even think bleach would make me forget, Dean.” Dean had rolled his eyes but barrelled forward anyway.

 

“Right, okay, so… it wasn’t always with women.” Dean had tensed and looked up at Sam, gauging his reaction. Sam had just raised his eyebrows.

 

“Did… did you think that was a secret?” Sam laughs, sitting forward. “Dude, seriously? Did you think I didn’t know? I thought  _ I _ was gonna have to tell  _ you _ one of these days.” Dean had furrowed his eyebrows and opened and closed his mouth several times before finally uttering a dissatisfied noise.

 

“You knew? For how long?” Sam laughs.

 

“I don’t know, man. I think I always sorta guessed. And then there was Cas, and your not-gay-but-totally-gay thing with Aaron. Benny. Gunnar Lawless.” Dean had flushed bright red, from the tips of his ears all the way down to the base of his neck.

 

“You’ve known for that long?” Sam had chuckled and nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “And it doesn’t bother you?”

 

“No, man. You’re still my brother. It doesn’t change anything.” Dean had visibly relaxed and nodded, almost to himself.

 

“Good. Cas and I are together, he moved into my room two days ago.” Sam had made a face and pulled the tome closer.

 

“Gross. Are you telling me this so I have time to get earplugs?” Dean had flushed again and Sam had laughed at him. “Thanks for the warning, I guess.” Dean had rolled his eyes and pushed himself away from the table.

 

“Whatever, bitch.” Sam had snorted at the old nickname.

 

“Hey, man, seriously though? I’m glad you’re both happy. And that you finally got your heads out of your asses.” Dean had rolled his eyes, but smiled fondly and left the kitchen.

  
  


        It takes them a little over five hours to get to Sidney. They get two motel rooms and change into their FBI suits. Cas grabs their IDs and notebooks and follows closely behind Dean to the car. Sam directs him to the morgue and, between the three of them, they get a good look at the body and all the answers they need from the medical examiner and her assistants. It’s nice, Dean thinks, to work in a cohesive unit like this. It’s nothing like when he went hunting with Sam and John. They were always bickering and Dean was  _ always _ caught in the middle of it, trying to be a good brother and a good son at the same time. Working with Sam and Cas is so much easier and faster. Castiel, with all his angel knowledge, is practically a walking encyclopedia for the mythology of early cultures. Sam is the brains of the group, the lore master, and Dean covered everything else: locating weapons, finding witnesses and lore books, getting information from reluctant witnesses, and building whatever equipment they needed from whatever was around. He doesn’t think of himself as particularly smart, but he  _ does _ know that without him, Sam and Cas would have a much harder time hunting. It makes him feel good to be useful, to put the skills he’s been cultivating his entire life to good use.

 

       It takes Castiel all of two minutes staring at the wounds on the latest body to figure out what they’re dealing with. Once they’ve finished interviewing the medical examiner, Cas motions both Winchesters into the hallway, keeping his voice low to ensure unsuspecting passersby stay safe from the world they don’t see.

 

“We’re dealing with a griffin.” Much to everyone’s surprise (well, maybe only Dean’s surprise, now that he’s thinking about it), Dean raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms over his chest.

 

“Well that explains the puncture wounds, I guess. Giant eagle claws will do that to you. They’re supposed to protect treasure or something, aren’t they?” Castiel smiles softly at Dean’s response before nodding.

 

“They are, yes. Which means there’s treasure somewhere around here. And if anyone else but the ones who’ve died already know about it, we could be looking at more bodies. We should get back to the motel and try to find the location.” Both Winchesters nod in agreement, and the three of them pile into the Impala.

 

        They split up tasks when they get back to the motel. Sam and Cas work on finding the location of the griffin, while Dean sorts through years and years of lore to find an effective way to kill the creature, if need be. Castiel and Sam both object to killing it, but there’s no way in  _ hell _ Dean’s walking in without a plan B, especially not with how things  _ normally _ go for them. 

 

        It takes them several hours, but Sam and Cas eventually narrow it down to two locations. One is an old home built in the 1920s to house the alcohol and the various treasures collected from people  _ paying  _ for the illegal alcohol during prohibition. While it seems like a good lead, Dean’s more confident about their second option. It’s a secluded cemetery where a wealthy tycoon was buried with his entire fortune, in current times totaling more than half a billion in various gold and jewels. Castiel and Sam both agree with him, though they decide Sam should stake out the house just in case. They eat a quick dinner before gathering their weapons and leaving the motel. They drop Sam off at the house and Dean and Cas head to the secluded cemetery, parking in view of the crypt. Dean turns the radio down so they can hear anything approach them and settles into his seat for a long night of waiting.

 

        That long night never comes. Dean and Cas are barely there fifteen minutes before some dumbass kid and his friends wander into the cemetery, giggling amongst themselves and pointing to the crypt. Dean and Cas are out of the car before any of the teens has a chance to get anywhere near the crypt, pulling them away and nudging them back in the direction they came. The commotion attracts the griffin who, much to Dean’s dismay, lunges straight for Castiel. The former angel dodges the creature and easily catches the sword Dean throws to him, stepping out of the creature’s range. Dean grabs the other sword from the Impala, keeping an eye on Castiel. 

 

        Dean swears he only turns away for a second, and when he looks back, the sword Castiel had moments before was wedged into the ground and the newly human hunter was approaching the creature with a hand outstretched, palm toward the sky.

 

“ _ Cas _ !” Dean hisses, gripping the handle of the sword tighter, ready to attack if he needs to. Castiel only waves him off.

 

“It’s just protecting its treasure, Dean. I can handle this.” He stops when he’s two feet from the creature’s head, leaving his arm outstretched. The griffin seems to regard him for what feels like hours before it bows its head and allows Castiel closer. The man whispers to it gently as he steps closer, glancing at Dean and offering him a reassuring smile. It doesn’t help much. Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the constant worry he feels whenever Castiel is on a hunt with them. He knows he wouldn’t trade it for anything, though.

 

“Cas, come on, it’s killed four people so far.” Castiel hums noncommittally, petting the griffin’s head gently.

 

“It’s not dangerous so long as we don’t threaten its treasure. She’s simply lonely, Dean. Her mate died.” Dean raises his eyebrows.

 

“How do you know that?” Castiel smiles sadly, continuing to pet the creature gently.

 

“I’d know the look in her eyes anywhere. I’ve seen it in the mirror.” Dean feels a wave of guilt wash over him, but he shakes it off and keeps a nervous but considerably less defensive eye on Cas and the griffin.

 

“Alright. So what do we do?” Castiel glances around, tilting his head and motioning Dean forward. 

 

“Perhaps if she can take the treasure with her, she’ll go back to where she came from and no one will get hurt. Maybe that’s why she stayed, because she couldn’t get into the crypt to get the treasure.” Dean sighs to himself. Leave it to him to find the hunter who tries to  _ save _ the creature that’s killing people.

 

“Okay. Let’s open the crypt, then. How do we know she won’t freak out and think we’re trying to steal it?” Castiel smiles softly.

 

“Griffins are remarkably intelligent creatures. As long as we approach slowly and ensure that she sees what we’re doing, she won’t fight us. We may have to make a run for it once the crypt it open, though.” Dean almost barks out a laugh at that, but resigns himself and leaves his sword next to Castiel’s in the ground. The two men slowly move to the doors of the crypt, prying them open and diving out of the way quickly when the griffin swoops in. It only takes a few moments before the crypt is entirely emptied and the griffin is flying away. Dean lets out a breathless chuckle and pushes himself to his feet, helping Castiel up.

 

“Next time warn a guy when you’re gonna go pet a deadly creature. I almost had a heart attack.” Castiel smiles fondly, pulling a leaf from Dean’s hair and nodding.

 

“Of course, Dean. My apologies. On the bright side, we’ve solved the case. If we leave in the morning, we’ll still have plenty of time for our movie weekend.” Dean grins at that, tossing the swords in the trunk and calling Sam.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr [here(:](https://fangirlingtodeath513.tumblr.com/)
> 
> PLEASE DO NOT POST MY WORKS ANYWHERE BUT HERE OR TUMBLR WITHOUT MY EXPRESS PERMISSION.


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